An Unexpected Consequence
by BluAlbino
Summary: Sam is having trouble sleeping, and can't remember why. But the real problem is when his nightmares start to bleed into the waking world.
1. There's No Such Thing As Too Much Coffee

_A blonde woman ran ahead of him…only he didn't seem to be running at all. More like hovering behind her. Something was familiar about this… She rounded a corner, but was stopped by a little girl. A little girl with glowing eyes and a wicked smile…_

…_Lilith…_

_The woman skidded to a halt before her… she fell to her knees in a forced bow…_

_-No…Please…No- The woman said in slow, disjointed bursts. Never opening her mouth… Sam felt an evil glee come off of Lilith in waves, almost heard her laugh. Lilith lifted her hand, Sam felt the energy pooling around it as it started to glow…like a drain in the air…_

_-Goodbye- Lilith said in her child's voice… Sam braced himself for the woman's death… _

_There was a shift_

_Sam felt the weight of Lilith's gaze…a very real, burning weight…fall on him._

_-You- She sounded surprised…and angry…her power-steeped hand swerved in his direction…_

_-Die-_

* * *

"Sammy!" Dean called his brother again. "Time to wake up!" He announced, half singing just to piss Sam off.

"Dean?" Sam asked, still muzzy from sleep and dreams. He looked over his shoulder, almost expecting to see a little demon girl hiding in a corner. Sam sniffed the air and smelled coffee, the scent bringing him farther into reality. He stood up and staggered over to the kitchenette, the call of caffeine stronger then the urge to stay in bed.

"Bad dreams?" Dean asked, a little worried about the tossing and turning Sam was doing.

"Yeah, I guess." Sam yawned and poured himself a glass of coffee.

"What about?" Dean asked, taking a sip of his own coffee. Not taking his eyes off of Sam.

"I dunno. The usual, I guess." Sam replied, getting irritated by all the questions so early in the morning. Dean backed off, letting Sam wake up more. Glancing around for any sign of food nearby without actually looking, Sam sat back down on his bed, letting the details of his dream come back to him. There was definitely a girl, maybe two. The whole thing had a hazy-but-freaky sort of feel about it.

Two girls, definitely.

Maybe.

Sam wasn't sure why he was trying to force remembrance, but it seemed important somehow.

* * *

_-You've come back.- Lilith said, her mouth closed -Fool- _

_Sam couldn't disagree with her… but he didn't know how to leave._

_He turned and ran…still feeling as though he was floating…but Lilith was too fast for him. She flung up her small child's hand and sent him crashing against some unseen surface. Pain flared through him._

_Lilith laughed._

_How do I get away? How? Sam thought._

_-Open your eyes Sam. Just open your eyes. You can do it, Sammy.- Dean was nowhere around, his voice came from Sam's head._

_-Dean my eyes are open. Help me.-_

_-He can't help you. You're my new toy. Nothing can help you.-_

_-Dean please Dean help me my eyes ARE open please-_

_-Sammy OPEN YOUR EYES-_

_

* * *

_

For the second day in a row, Sam had no idea what he was dreaming about. The only thing he remembered was falling asleep, them waking back up at two in the morning, covered in sweat with his heart racing. He did feel a cold dread at even trying to fall back asleep, so he drank a few cups of coffee and took a shower. Dean woke later, much later. He would've worried if he had known about Sam getting less then three hours of sleep, so Sam told him that he woke up at five.

"Some one had a good dream last night," Dean said, leering at him and sipping coffee.

"What?" Sam asked, sure his dream had been anything but good.

"Dude, I heard you whimpering on your sleep. And begging." Sam blushed bright red and Dean chuckled, glad he could start his day off with some good old-fashioned heckling.

* * *

After a week with barely any sleep, Sam had to admit that there might be a problem. The last thing he wanted to do was to exhaust himself to the point where he would pass out and not be able to wake back up for hours, but he couldn't sleep more then an hour or so. He guzzled coffee like water, then topped it off with energy drinks in the afternoon. Dean was noticing the dark circles under his eyes, Sam could tell, but he hadn't said anything yet.

At least he didn't know about the hallucinations.

Yesterday Sam was sitting in the Impala, waiting for Dean to come back out of the gas station with food. He heard a shuffling noise, like fabric being dragged over cement, and looked around for the source. Right behind the car, walking through the empty parking lot, was a clown. Sam froze to his seat. The clown looked like it had gone through a hurricane, with it's costume torn and makeup smeared, it looked dead. It shouldn't be moving at all, but there it was, walking straight towards Sam.

Sam without Dean to scare it off.

The clown shuffled closer, not walking because it's leg was clearly mangled. It really was dead. The sunlight glinted off one of it's eyes--and it was yellow. Oh my god yellow eyes-- the dead clown kept on right towards Sam--who couldn't move right then to save his life-- grinning, the makeup looked like blood smeared around it's mouth and it just kept coming--

"Sam!" Dean yelled, announcing his presence when he walked back out of the gas station holding a bag of junk food. Sam turned to look at him on instinct, then whipped his head back around, and the dead clown was gone. Dean climbed in the drivers side and shoved the plastic bag onto Sam's lap.

"You okay?" Dean asked, Sam still staring at nothing.

"Yeah, fine. Just…thought I saw something." He pulled a red bull out of the bag and chugged it while they drove away.

* * *

**This story is totally different for me, so let me know if you want me to post the rest, please **


	2. TV is Bad For You

**Quick A/N: In order for this chapter to make sense, remember that insomnia (not sleeping) can cause mood swings, rage and periods of depression as well as hallucinations**

* * *

Sam let Dean search through the obituaries for once, since he was creeped out by all the pictures, could've sworn one was winking at him.

"What about this one," Dean said. "Abigail Dorton, 27, died in a suspected mugging, but wasn't missing her wallet or purse, no witnesses." Dean looked over to Sam, who was on his third cup of coffee.

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged, he'd never heard of her. Sam took the newspaper from him, and looked at the picture of Abigail Dorton.

She looked familiar, blonde, pretty…Sam's dream rushed back to him so fast he nearly got whiplash. If he dreamed of Abbie Dorton getting killed, days before it happened…

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, seeing the look on Sam's face.

"I had another vision. Of her dying."

* * *

Apparently Sam having visions again was weird enough to warrant a call to Bobby, who obviously didn't like what he was hearing.

"Yes I'm sure it was a real vision… Lilith killed some chick, we saw the obituary… I am not going to call that dick!" Bobby must've mentioned Castiel, bad move. There was some more arguing, and a few choice words, then Dean hung up.

"He has no idea why you're seeing dead people again." Dean announced.

"I think we should talk to Castiel." Sam said. Dean glared at him. "What? If Bobby doesn't know, then maybe Cas has some angelic tip-line or something."

"No." Dean said, end of discussion.

* * *

Sam and Dean sat on their beds, Sam zoned out and staring at the TV, and Dean living up to the unspoken agreement that he would stay up with his brother. Sam was nodding off, blinking too much.

"Sam." Dean said, seeing it out of the corner of his eye. Sam's head jerked up, and he took another gulp of coffee.

"You can go to sleep, Dean." Sam said.

"No chance."

"Dean…"

"Then who'd make sure you stay awake?" Dean asked, glaring at him. Sam sipped more coffee, unable to come up with a response. Instead, the next time Dean's coffee cup ran out, Sam refilled it for him, with decaf.

Dean nodded off half an hour later, and Sam let him sleep. One of them should.

He flipped through the TV channels, trying to find something interesting enough to hold his attention. Nothing. Sam felt the urge to put the remote, or his fist, through the TV screen. Sam glanced over at Dean, curled up in his sleep, and he felt angry as hell. Practically homicidal. Why would he be able to sleep when Sam couldn't, what the hell did he do that made him so special?

Realizing what he was thinking, and more importantly, who he was thinking about, Sam turned his attention back to the TV. It played an old episode of "The Twilight Zone".

Sam chuckled a bit at the premise of aliens, but watched anyway.

Just as he was getting into the show, the stupid TV fizzled out into static. Sam angrily pressed some buttons on the remote, then chucked it at the wall when it didn't work.

"Damn TV." Sam muttered. The TV shook on it's stand, sending up sparks. "What the hell?" It kept shaking violently, making one of the worst grinding-clicking noises Sam ever heard. Dean stayed asleep. The sparks were followed by light grey smoke, that thickened into thick black smog--the damn TV was possessed.

The demonic fog curled out of the TV, leaving the appliance a burned out shell. It headed straight towards Sam--it was gonna crawl down his throat and taste like sulfur and burnt meat and blood--then it turned. The smoke swerved in mid-air, heading for sleeping Dean.

"NO!" Sam yelled, lunging for it. He missed and landed on Dean's bed. The smoke lunged into Dean's mouth and down his throat sickeningly fast--a black snake made of smoke. Dean didn't so much as twitch in his sleep.

"Wake up!" Sam yelled, grabbing Dean's shoulders.

"Wha- Sammy?" The thing-that-looked-like-Dean said.

"GET OUT OF HIM!" Sam screamed, shaking the demon.

"SAM IT'S ME!"

"NO! GET OUT OF MY BROTHER!" Sam shouted.

"CRISTO!" Dean yelled. Sam let go of him--it had to be Dean demons can't say the name of the lord--but he saw it he saw it go into him--

"Sam, it's me. Calm down." Dean--and it was definitely Dean--said. Sam let go of him, and sat down on the floor.

"I thought you were possessed." Sam said.

"I know." Dean sat down next to him.

"I saw it." Sam stared at Dean, " I saw it come out of the TV and into you." Dean decided not to make a snaky comment about a demon possessing their TV.

"You must've fallen asleep and dreamed it."

"No, Dean, I was awake. I was awake today and I was awake when I saw the clown, I've been awake this whole time, but I keep having nightmares." Sam pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them.

"Clown? Sam, there wasn't a demon, and I'm pretty sure there wasn't a clown." Dean tried to calm him.

"It doesn't matter." Sam said, with all the monotone and finality of a doomsday prophet. "I see them anyway."


	3. Unpleasant Conversation

Sam was apparently in a coma, and Dean was finally willing to admit that he needed help on this one. He stood in the tiny bathroom of their motel room, staring in the mirror, steadying himself for what he was about to do. Dean almost gave up before he started, but he remembered Sammy, who he had to take care of, sitting on his bed, zoned out from depression and lack of sleep, yet unable to actually sleep. It helped his resolve.

"Cas, you better be listening to this." Dean whispered, closing his eyes to avoid seeing his reflection, his knuckles white from gripping the counter in front of him. "I know you can't 'perch on my shoulder' and everything, and that you're not that into helping me for no reason…but I really need you right now. It's Sam, there's something wrong with him… and I don't know what to do." His voice didn't crack or anything on that part, it just echoed weird off the wall in front of him. "If you could help… please." Dean sighed, still keeping his eyes tightly shut. Looks like the dick wasn't going to help after all.

"Generally, it's considered a sin to pray to someone other then the Lord." A gravelly voice said from next to him, accompanied by a sense of someone being _there_ with him, in a room much too small for two grown men. Dean opened his eyes and saw Castiel standing awkwardly in the bathtub.

"I wasn't praying." Dean said gruffly. Castiel replied with a 'yes you were' look. "Are you here to help or what?"

"I'm here to give you some advice, Dean." Dean glared at him. "Take it or leave it."

"What?"

"If an angel took a human as their consort, the human would become less sinful, kinder, more…angelic." Dean raised his eyebrow, wondering what the hell this had to do with Sam. "On the other hand, if a demon were to take a human lover, that human would become more demonic. Especially if they had demon blood in their veins," Castiel looked at him pointedly.

"Wait." Dean said, "are you saying my brother has a demonic STD?" Castiel might not have known the exact meaning of 'STD', but he understood the question.

"Of a sort."

"So Ruby did this to him."

"Not intentionally."

"Then how do I fix it, 'cause according to Sam they're not screwing anymore."

"It won't be easy, Dean." Cas said, staring him down.

"I don't care." And Dean meant it. Castiel sighed.

"His…relations with the demon gave him a vision." He kept talking over the snaky comment Dean wanted to make. "Just one, but it was a vision of Lilith. She is powerful enough to know where Sam is at all times, if she wants, but I was shielding the both of you." He sighed again. "Now she knows where you both are, and she has access to Sam's mind."

"She's in his head?" Cas nodded. "Then get her out!"

"I told you it wouldn't be easy." Castiel said. His words were almost whiney, but his voice was strong.

"What do I do?" Dean asked.

"You don't do anything." Castiel said, and Dean figured that this was the sucky part. "Sam has to stand up to her inside his own mind, and force her out."

"I thought you said he had to stop with that."

"No, he was using _demonic_ powers to perform exorcisms, but expelling a demon from his own mind would take _human_ willpower."

"Then how do demons walk around in human bodies for months at a time?" Dean asked, sarcastically.

"Because the amount of mental strength needed is nearly impossible for a normal person."

"Then how the hell is Sam supposed to do it?" Cas didn't even have to think on that question.

"Sam is not a normal person." Dean's glare intensified at that, but he didn't argue. He didn't even want to know how much concentration it would take to rip a demon out of a person.

"And what happens if he can't get Lilith out of his head."

"He'll be driven insane." Cas said, not seeming particularly worried about that possibility.

"That's not going to happen."

"It's the only way Dean." Castiel said, sounding almost…desperate.

"I'm not going to let it happen." Cas sighed again.

"Where do you think Uriel is right now?"

Dean's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach and every hunter's instinct went into high alert. He flung the bathroom door open and ran the three steps into the 'bedroom'. Uriel was leaning over Sam, his brother's eyes were still half open, staring at the angel without really seeing him.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. Sam's blank gaze slowly turned to him.

"Dean?" He said weakly. Uriel grinned over his shoulder at Dean, who was going to punch that look right off his fucking face. He squeezed his hands into fists so tight he felt his knuckles crack, never halting in his forward movement.

From behind Dean, a pair of wiry arms wrapped around him, holding him back. Uriel chuckled. Dean struggled in Castiel's inhumanly strong grip.

"Let me go!" He snarled, not taking his eyes off Sammy, who was still too out of it to know what was going on.

"I'm sorry Dean." Cas said. Dean squirmed, kicked at Cas' legs and scratched at his arms but the angel wouldn't let go. Uriel was loving this, watching his partner restrain Dean with an evil smirk on his face.

"Sam! Wake up and run away!"

"Just do it already." Castiel said, his voice strained. Dean was wearing him down, just a little more… Uriel pointed the first to fingers of his hand and tapped them lightly to Sam's forehead.

Sam's eyes closed and he fell back onto his bed, fast asleep.

Dean ran to him, Castiel suddenly letting him go. Uriel give one last smirk in his direction, and disappeared.

"Sammy." Dean said, grabbing his shoulders, "c'mon man, wake up." Sam snored softly, dead to the world. Dean shook him gently, but that didn't work either. And Sam was a light sleeper, most of the time.

"I'm sorry." Castiel said again, his voice close. Dean stood up, turned around, and gave him the punch originally meant for his partner. Castiel wobbled a bit, but righted himself.

"You son of a bitch." Dean snarled at him. Castiel looked at the floor, seemingly unaware of the cut Dean's ring had carved on his face. "Why do you let him do that?" Dean asked, grabbing Cas by his collar, forcing the angel to look at him.

"I had to." Castiel said sadly. The cut on his face shrunk, then vanished, leaving nothing behind, not even blood. Dean snarled and pushed him away.

"Leave." He said. "And if anything happens to him, it was your fault." Castiel left, without a sound, Dean was just aware of the sudden lack of presence in the room. Dean looked at Sam, sleeping soundly. Probably not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do in there, or how. Dean pulled a chair from the other side of the room and sat next to his bed, reminding himself of so many hospital rooms.

Nothing was Cas' fault, Dean was the one who had to protect him.


	4. Trade Off

Sam sat up bolt straight in bed, knowing that he wasn't supposed to be asleep in the first place. He looked around at the room, sunlight filtering through the ugly curtains. It was morning. Sam sighed, he'd slept all night and hadn't dreamed a thing. He grinned, wait 'til Dean heard. Sam turned to Dean's bed to tell him the good news, but Dean wasn't there. Hell, the bed was so clean tidy it looked like he hadn't been there all night.

Sam slowly got up, wary in case of an intruder. The salt lines were still in front of the door, no sulfur smell, but that didn't mean that some junkie hadn't broken in in the middle of the night.

"Dean?" Sam called. "Dean, you there?"

Nothing.

Sam went to Dean's bed and checked under the pillow, no knife. Shit, he was un-armed. He grimaced and glanced around. Only three doors in the place, the one leading outside, the bathroom, and a small closet. All were closed.

The closet was too small to hold anything dangerous, unless it was a bomb.

If the intruder was outside, Sam didn't have to worry quite as much.

That left the bathroom.

Biting his lip, Sam walked over to the bathroom door, trying to make his giant feet soft and quiet. He grasped the handle and braced himself against the door, prepared for a fight. On more deep breath and - SLAM!-

The door banged off the wall and bounced back a few inches, and Sam took a fighting stance.

"AH!" Yelled someone. Dean. "Jesus, Sammy, don't scare me like that."

"What are you doing?" Sam asked. It was a valid question, seeing as Dean was huddled in the bathtub, in the dark, cradling a shotgun to his chest. "Dean, why didn't you answer me?"

Dean grinned apologetically. "Wasn't sure it was you Sam. Glad it was though." Sam flicked on the lights.

"Uh." Dean grunted, flinching away from the sudden brightness. Dean looked like shit in the light, tired and worried and scared. There were deep purple smudges under his eyes.

"Dean…" Sam started. "You didn't…"

"Didn't what?" Dean asked. Not sarcastically, like usual. Like he really didn't know what Sam was talking about.

"Dean, did you sleep? At all?" Dean made a face and tried to stand, leaning heavily on the wall behind him.

" 'Corse I did, just 'cause I didn't sleep until lunchtime…" Sam cut him off.

"Dean, look me in the eye and tell me you didn't do this again."

"This?" Dean said, waking up with the force of his sudden anger. "By 'this' do you mean saving your ungrateful ass again?" Sam's heart rose up in his throat. " 'Cause if that's what you mean, then yeah, I did it again."

"Dean…" Sam said. "How could you do that? Why?"

"WHY?" Dean yelled back.

"We could have figured out some other way-"

"No, we couldn't have."

"You don't know that!"

"Yes I do!" Dean yelled, stopping Sam's rebuttal. "Cas told me the only way to get rid of this might have killed you!"

"So you decided it should kill you instead?!" Sam screamed, Dean sighed, passing a hand over his eyes.

"It won't kill me Sam. All I had to do was take on your nightmares, and after Hell, they're not that bad."

Sam exploded.

"Not that bad! Dean, you didn't sleep last night! And I bet you're hallucinating too!" Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam had had enough. He turned and headed for the door of the motel room, preparing to storm off angrily-when he couldn't. Sam tried to step past the threshold of the doorframe, and just couldn't.

The part of his foot that came closest to it, the tip of his big toe, felt tingly, then painful.

"What the…" Sam said, drawing his foot away. Nothing seemed different. Just a normal, badly made, motel door, with a thin layer of salt scattered over the bottom of it.

Was it the salt?

Sam knelt down, and picked up a handful. Or tried too anyway, because the second his skin touched the white powder, it burned like fire. He pulled his hand back in a flash and made a soft grunt.

There was a click behind him.

He turned and saw Dean, now looking more pissed then tired, pointing the shotgun at his head.

"Dean…" Sam said, slowly rising to his feet.

"Don't move." Dean said, staring at him down the barrel of the shotgun.


End file.
